


Un-American

by RainbowRiddler



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Based on a True Story, F/F, angie/ketchup, peggy/angie - Freeform, why are we out of ketchup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:12:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowRiddler/pseuds/RainbowRiddler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where’s the ketchup?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Un-American

“What?” Angie whispered to herself as she rifled through the refrigerator.  She closed the door and opened it again immediately after.  “No,” she said.  “No, no, no…”

“What?” Peggy called from where she was cutting the rolls Angie had baked earlier that day.

“Damn it!”  Angie shut the refrigerator door again with a little more vehemence.  She began stalking through the kitchen.  “Damn it!”  She frantically eyed the counters and did a sweep of the table.  “No.  Oh no…  Come on!”

“What?” Peggy tried again with a bit more force.

Angie turned wide eyes on her, her expression panicked and heartbroken.  “Where’s the ketchup?” she asked.

Peggy froze, because she knew  _exactly_  where it was, and Lord if Angie didn’t look like a vulnerable child in that moment.  “Do we have any?” she asked slowly, carefully. She resumed her work with the rolls, pointedly ignoring the huge, blue puppy eyes across the kitchen.

“I thought we did.  There was still a quarter bottle left…”  Angie looked around the kitchen one more time then checked the fridge once more.  “Did it get thrown out?” she asked herself.

Peggy watched Angie close the refrigerator door for the third time.  The waitress twirled slowly, as if lost.  Then, something seemed to occur to her and she disappeared through the doorway.

“Damn…” Peggy heard from the dining room.  A moment later, she heard the same thing from the living room.

Angie reappeared, looking like her goldfish had just died.

“Peg, do you know where the ketchup is?”

Peggy placed her knife on the counter, finished with her cutting.

“Did you throw it out?” Angie asked, voice quiet.

Peggy pretended to think back.  “Was that…what you told me to get rid of?  While we were gathering the trash last week, remember?”

“No, I don’t,” Angie asserted. “Why would I tell you to throw ketchup in the trash?”  The very notion sounded crazy to her, Peggy gathered.

“It had been left out.  I asked you–”

“I would never tell you to throw it away!”

“It had been left out,” Peggy reminded.

“It was fine,” Angie insisted.

“I asked,” Peggy reiterated.  “It had been out for at least a day.”

Angie’s lips pursed, as if she’d eaten something sour.  Then her face took on a dark, resigned quality.  “So there’s no ketchup?”  Her voice was flat, and Peggy cringed.

“…No.”  The Englishwoman braced herself.  “I’m afraid not.”

Angie’s face twisted dramatically and Peggy shrunk into the small alcove beside the refrigerator.

“No,” the waitress said petulantly.  “Really?”  She was begging Peggy to tell her it wasn’t true.  It had to be some kind of prank.

Right?

“Really,” Peggy affirmed.

And the dramatics started as Angie hurriedly paced the kitchen with her hands in her hair.  “NOOO!” she mock hollered all the way from one end to the other.  “Nooo!” she moaned again as she moved the other way.

Then she came to a halt by one of the bar stools at the center breakfast bar and collapsed onto it with a final broken “No…”

Finally deeming it safe, Peggy moved from her spot and rested her hands on Angie’s shoulders.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “You’ll just have to do without tonight.”

The glare Angie turned on her made Peggy recoil.  “What are you?  Some kind of savage?” she spat. Then, she rose from the bar stool and poked Peggy in the chest. “We’re eating  _hamburgers_ , Peg!  You don’t just  _do without_  ketchup!  That’s just un-American!”

Unimpressed, Peggy held her ground.  “I think you’re being a touch dramatic.”

Another glare.

“I think you’ll live for one night,” she insisted.

They stared each other down for several moments before Angie finally relented.  She threw a cut roll on her plate and slapped a patty on it, stomping her way to the dining room aftewards.  She grumbled the entire way, saying things like “How the hell am I supposed to eat a burger without ketchup?” and “Who throws ketchup away anyhow?”

When Peggy was certain Angie was staying in the other room, she shook her head and chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Shut up, English!” Angie growled, clearly still able to hear.

  
  


BONUS:

“How’s your burger?” Peggy asked pleasantly.

Angie stopped her delighted munching, a scowl forming on her beautiful face.  “The burger is delicious, thanks.”  Just as Peggy was about to quip about Angie’s earlier dramatics, the woman sniffed indignantly.  “And it would be even better with ketchup.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a true story.


End file.
